


Christmas Kids

by priorwalter



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priorwalter/pseuds/priorwalter
Summary: Chrollo, sporting only heart-patterned boxers and a fur-lined coat and slowly making his way through a bowl of soggy Rice Krispies, said, “Illumi, sorry that you didn’t get the job, but I would like to point out that you showed up to an interview at Applebee’s in a ruffled-collar shirt and heels.”Hisoka gave Chrollo a sidelong glance. “Are you saying that gender nonconformity makes Illumi unfit for work? His parents just kicked him out of the house for being gay, Chrollo.”“They did not kick me out of the house,” Illumi snapped. “I would appreciate it if you stopped saying that.”*Illumi is forced to room with Hisoka and Chrollo after he's asked to leave the Zoldyck manor.
Relationships: Hisoka & Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer & Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 37
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this started out as crack and banter but i took it too seriously and now there's plot and illumi angst. this is not adultrio, chrollo's just always there. enjoy! this is not a christmas fic, the title is just from the song of the same name by roar
> 
> some warnings: homophobia, run of the mill mild illumi classism, hisoka's general assholery

“Thank you for your application,” Illumi, sitting comfortably on the kitchen countertop, read out from the email on his phone, “but after reviewing your qualifications, we have decided to pursue other applicants who may be more appropriate for this position.” 

Hisoka, who was standing beside Illumi, wrapped his arm around Illumi’s waist and patted his knee with his other hand. “You’ll get ‘em next time, son.”

Illumi shoved him off, but before he could respond, Chrollo interrupted. “You can’t call him son when his parents just kicked him out of the house, Hisoka.” 

“You are also my boyfriend,” pointed out Illumi, adjusting his shirt after Hisoka crinkled it.

“So literal. Lighten up, ladies.” 

Chrollo, sporting only heart-patterned boxers and a fur-lined coat and slowly making his way through a bowl of soggy Rice Krispies, continued, “Illumi, sorry that you didn’t get the job, but I would like to point out that you showed up to an interview at Applebee’s in a ruffled-collar shirt and heels.” 

Hisoka gave Chrollo a sidelong glance. “Are you saying that gender nonconformity makes Illumi unfit for work? His parents just kicked him out of the house for being gay, Chrollo.” 

“They did not kick me out of the house,” Illumi snapped. “I would appreciate it if you stopped saying that.” 

It was true that Illumi had been politely asked to relocate from the Zoldyck manor, but it wasn’t because of his sexuality. His parents loved him very much; they had simply decided that, since he was twenty now, it was time for him to live on his own. They also cut him off from all of their bank accounts, and were now only paying for his tuition. 

“Of course, Illu,” Hisoka said soothingly. “They only asked you to move out and had your butlers pack up all of your belongings without asking you the day after they caught us fucking.” 

Illumi shoved him lightly, but Hisoka caught him in an embrace. “I hate you,” Illumi muttered. “That was your fault.”

After his parents sent him out into the world, Illumi moved in with Hisoka. This also meant moving in with Hisoka’s roommate, Chrollo Lucifer. It wasn’t… awful. 

“Anyway,” Hisoka said, as if Illumi never spoke, “you can’t judge Illumi for his appearance, Chrollo. You have a forehead tattoo.”

Chrollo sighed, casting his eyes upward as he gathered his patience. The argument sounded well-worn and familiar. “That I got when I was drunk.”

“I don’t think that any level of inebriation would lead me to think that a forehead tattoo was a good idea,” Illumi said. He did not like tattoos; his skin was too nice to be ruined. 

As if reading his mind, Hisoka replied, “You don’t think any tattoos are a good idea because you’re too pretty.” 

“I like your tattoos,” Illumi replied. It seemed like Hisoka was trying to make fun of him, but he couldn’t understand the joke. 

Chrollo’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead. “You have tattoos?”

Hisoka winked. “Nowhere I’d show you.” 

“I’ve seen you naked, though.” 

Hisoka clapped his hands over Illumi’s ears. “Not in front of my wife, you harlot!”

Illumi escaped from Hisoka’s grip and gracefully slid off of the counter, out of his boyfriend’s reach. He sat beside Chrollo at their tiny dinner table, who looked confused. He finally said, “Isn’t it weird for you to call him your wife? I thought there was no woman in the relationship or whatever.” 

“You’re so homophobic, Chrollo,” Hisoka sighed, staring dramatically out the window that looked into another apartment building. “I think you need to have sex with a man. It’s about time you lost your virginity.” 

“I’m not a virgin,” Chrollo replied, overly calm, “and besides, virginity is a social construct. It doesn’t matter—”

“Would you look at the time,” Hisoka interrupted. “I have to go have sex with my boyfriend, something Chrollo would know nothing about.” 

Chrollo’s face soured. “You don’t need to—”

“No,” Illumi cut in, checking his schedule on his phone. “I have an assignment due tomorrow for econometric analysis. Later.” 

Hisoka pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

“I still can’t believe you’re in econ, Illumi. If you were anyone but Hisoka’s boyfriend I would ban you from this apartment.”

Hisoka opened the nearly-empty cupboards, searching for food. “I mean, he did wear a ruffle-collared shirt to an Applebee’s interview. We had to teach him how to do laundry.” He paused and frowned when he came up with nothing to eat. “When was the last time we went grocery shopping?”

Illumi scowled. “Yes, well, now I’m broke and stuck here with you plebeians. I hope you’re happy.” He thought for a moment. “I think you went two weeks ago?” 

Hisoka gave him a dazzling smile. “Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, darling. Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough to get a job. Isn’t that what they teach you in capitalism 101?”

“You’re making fun of me,” Illumi said. 

“Yes, Illu.” Hisoka said sweetly. Suddenly, his face lit up, and he snapped. “I just remembered! Machi told me that one of the receptionists at our nail place died.”

Illumi and Chrollo shared a confused look. “...Sorry?” Chrollo ventured. 

Hisoka frowned. “She was like, ninety, I don’t care. It just means that there has to be an opening now, and Illumi is pretty enough for them to look past his personality.” 

Illumi cocked his head. “I used to do the books for my parents sometimes, in between contracts.” 

“What do your parents do, anyway?” Chrollo asked, giving Illumi a critical look. 

Illumi waved his hand vaguely. “Oh, you know.” 

“I don’t, though.”

A shrug. “This and that.” 

“So they’re either child traffickers or drug lords,” Chrollo said. Illumi thought he was being serious, but the silence that followed his statement made him stand up abruptly. “What the fuck, Illumi?”

“I mean, it’s not either of those,” Illumi replied. 

“Mr. Christian Studies Major is a little sensitive, Illu, be careful,” Hisoka said. He crossed the room and patted Chrollo’s unkempt hair before sitting beside Illumi. “Anyway, I’ll see if I can get you the job.”

Illumi nodded. He had some savings, but he would run out fast now that he had to pay for rent and groceries. Employment was his first priority, even if it had to be minimum wage. Still, if Hisoka and Chrollo could do it, so could he. 

Hisoka worked as a bartender at a bar called Greed Island, and Chrollo had two jobs. During the weekdays he worked at the university arts library, and on weekends he was a cashier at Hot Topic in the mall. He said that he preferred working at Hot Topic because he didn’t have to deal with stuffy grad students, but Illumi thought it was more likely because he didn’t have to put makeup over his tattoo there. 

A knock sounded at the door, startling Chrollo. Hisoka, dressed only in tiny shorts and one of Illumi’s shirts that was much too small for him, answered it to find — no one. Or, so Illumi thought. 

“Oh, there you are,” Hisoka said, looking down. “You should really start wearing platforms, Feitan.”

“Shut up,” Feitan said, pushing past Hisoka. “Hello, Illumi. Did your parents finally kick you out?”

Illumi gave Feitan an icy glare. Usually, people found his empty eyes intimidating, but Feitan had no visible reaction.

“It was a joke. You’re just here all the time now,” Feitan said. 

Hisoka grinned, baring his teeth like a fox. “That’s because his parents kicked him out for being gay.” 

Illumi stood up. “Fuck off, Hisoka.” 

Feitan’s flat gaze remained on Illumi for a few seconds too long, but he only said, “Chrollo, I need help with my Religion in Film essay.”

Chrollo nodded. “How did you even get into the building?”

Illumi stormed off to the room he now shared with Hisoka, leaving the others to their own devices. 

* * *

Illumi, of course, did not finish his econometric analysis assignment after retiring to his room; mostly he lay in bed, burying his face in Hisoka’s pillow so he might drown himself in the familiar smell.

It had been just over three weeks since his removal from the Zoldyck manor and he still had yet to fully unpack. His messy suitcase seemed to stare at him from across the room, boasting his failure to the family. 

Paradoxically, Illumi didn’t want to unpack because of his parents. Even though they’d asked him to leave, settling somewhere so quickly felt like a betrayal. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was still clinging to the hope that they might invite him back. He had always been taught that family came first, and he wanted his family back. 

After some indeterminate amount of time, the door creaked open and the mattress dipped as someone sat on the edge. Illumi didn’t move except to pull the blankets over his head. 

“Illumi,” said Hisoka.

“Fuck off,” Illumi muttered. “I don’t like you.” 

Hisoka seemed to interpret that as his cue to lie down beside Illumi. Illumi rolled over so he was wedged against the wall. His hair was tangled and staticky from the nest of bedding, but he didn’t want to leave his cocoon.

“I called Southernpiece,” Hisoka said, referring to the place where he went to get his nails done. “You have an interview tomorrow.” 

Illumi continued to ignore him. He was still sore about his parents’ decision. It was obvious that his relationship with Hisoka was relevant to the situation; Illumi wasn’t that stupid. Still, he had always been taught that family was more important than anything else and he wanted to believe that his parents had other reasons for forcing him out. They had always been harsh on him, but in the end it was for the best and Illumi didn’t enjoy Hisoka talking about Silva and Kikyo like they were evil. 

Hisoka let out a heaving sigh and sat up. “Stop thinking about your parents.”

“Stop talking about them,” Illumi retorted. 

“I will if you come out of the blankets. You’ll run out of air soon.” 

Illumi glared even though Hisoka couldn’t see it. Slowly, he poked his head out of the bedding and stuck his tongue out at Hisoka. “Go away.” 

Instead of following his command, Hisoka pushed Illumi’s messy hair out of his face. “No. This is my bedroom.”

Before Hisoka could move his hand away, Illumi grabbed it. “Stop talking about my parents like that.”

Hisoka’s facial expression rarely strayed from some variation of perverse delight, which is why Illumi found it so uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of perhaps the first time Hisoka allowed pity to grace his elegant features. “One last thing.”

“No, Hisoka.”

“Illumi.”

“Fine.”

Hisoka tightened his grip on Illumi’s delicate fingers, using his other hand to rub soothing circles into his back. “You don’t have to be grateful to mommy and daddy for kicking you out. No matter why you think they did it, you’re clearly upset. You can be sad about it.” 

“I’m not upset,” Illumi hissed. “If something were wrong, which nothing is, I wouldn’t listen to you of all people.”

Hisoka _tsk_ ed. “Tetchy.”

Illumi sat up, letting the blankets fall to the side. He was sure he looked terrible; his clothes were a mess from lying in bed and he hadn’t slept well in weeks. His eyes were smeared with purple and his skin was sickly and pale. Hisoka didn’t seem to care; he wrapped his arms around Illumi’s shoulders and pulled him against his chest. Illumi relaxed at the contact; he crawled forward on the bed so he was curled up in Hisoka’s lap, crumpled against him.

Illumi must have fallen asleep, because he blinked awake, disoriented as loud voices filtered in through the closed bedroom door. He was still half-draped across Hisoka’s lap, with his head pillowed on Hisoka’s thigh and torso curled up on his legs. Illumi’s feet were sticking off of the bed. Hisoka seemed to be reading a textbook, though the textbook was resting on Illumi’s back. 

“Let me up,” Illumi rasped, voice rough with sleep. 

“Good morning, Rapunzel.”

Illumi sat up after Hisoka put his book away. “I think you meant Sleeping Beauty.” He arranged his unkempt hair into a loose bun and tied it with an elastic he had been keeping on his wrist. 

Hisoka shook his head. “Her hair isn’t as nice as yours.” He watched with his usual satisfied grin as Illumi stretched out his stiff muscles.

“I want pho,” Illumi said suddenly. “I am hungry.” 

“Order it yourself.”

Illumi flopped dramatically back onto the bed, sighing loudly. “Hisoka.”

Hisoka gathered Illumi’s limp body and lanky limbs into his arms. Illumi melted into him with a small sigh. Hisoka laughed. “Independence is a gift, my love.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Come in.”

Chrollo cracked the door open and frowned at Illumi’s position. “We’re watching Legally Blonde. Are you coming?” 

Without warning, Hisoka clutched Illumi against his chest and stood up, hoisting him into a bridal carry. Chrollo stepped out of the way to let them pass and said, “I thought you didn’t like movies, Illumi.”

Illumi lolled his head back and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. Hisoka let out a quiet laugh. “He only watches movies he’s seen before, that’s why he’s so picky about it.”

A new voice cut into the conversation as Hisoka carefully arranged himself and Illumi on the sofa. “He’s so weird,” Shalnark said, already comfortable on the other end of the couch. 

Illumi cracked open one tired eye at Shalnark. His cheeks were red; it was clear he’d been drinking “Why are you here?” He guessed that Shalnark and the two other visitors other than Feitan, Shizuku and Machi, had arrived while Illumi was sleeping.

“I’m ordering Vietnamese,” Hisoka interrupted. “Write down your orders on my phone.” He tossed his phone in Shalnark’s direction as an argument broke out over the merits of pho versus banh mi. 

Illumi pressed his face into Hisoka’s chest and allowed himself a small smile. “I win,” he muttered, voice muffled.

Hisoka tugged on his hair, ever so gently. “I let you win. Now wake up or you’ll miss the movie.”

“I am perfectly awake,” Illumi retorted, though he knew if Hisoka continued to hold him like he was he would fall asleep very soon. Hisoka only laughed.

“If I didn’t know Hisoka, I would say that you two are cute,” Machi said suddenly, nodding at them from where she was perched on the arm of the loveseat. “Unfortunately, I know that anyone who can put up with Hisoka is probably just as bad.”

Shalnark tilted his head, giving Illumi and Hisoka a scrutinizing look. “I think it’s sweet. It’s like Margot Robbie and that guy from Batman.”

“I think I prefer Hisoka’s brand of insane,” Chrollo said, twisting open the cap of a Pink Whitney. “Illumi exclusively eats dry Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. Sometimes dinner.”

“I can hear you,” Illumi pointed out. 

No one acknowledged that he had spoken. Instead, Machi rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen him naked and that makes him better than either of you idiots in my books.”

Feitan thrust his phone in Hisoka’s face, interrupting the conversation. Illumi was grateful. “Phinks wants in.” 

“In?” Shalnark echoed. “Are we a secret club? We’re watching Legally Blonde and ordering takeout.”

“Just put on the movie,” Chrollo groaned, abandoning his glass and drinking straight from the bottle of bright pink vodka. “Phinks can do what he wants.”

“Isn’t Pink Whitney a little gay, Chrollo?” Hisoka asked, threading his fingers through Illumi’s hair, which had fallen out of its haphazard bun, absentmindedly. “I mean, it’s pink. Are you feeling emasculated?” 

Chrollo steadfastly ignored Hisoka’s statement. “Everyone’s written down their orders, call the Vietnamese place.”

“Tetchy,” Hisoka said in a sing-song voice, but he obeyed. Illumi liked the way Hisoka’s deep voice vibrated through his chest as he spoke; it was soothing. He drifted off again, not quite asleep but far from awake. Every so often, Hisoka would shift on the sofa or adjust Illumi’s tangle of limbs. He was content to listen to the familiar sounds of Legally Blonde and Hisoka’s friends’ annoying bickering.

It was nice, sort of. 

“Is he okay?” Shizuku asked quietly as Warner broke up with Elle on the television. “He’s usually so talkative.” 

Illumi had half a mind to shush her so that he could hear the movie, but he stayed silent. Hisoka’s hand came to rest on Illumi’s back. “He’s being an idiot.”

Illumi poked him in the ribs, but he didn’t have the energy to make a fuss. Hisoka kissed the top of his head. 

“Ew,” said Machi. “Gross.” 

“Is—” 

“I’m allowed to say that because I’m queer, Chrollo, don’t finish that sentence.” 

Illumi almost didn’t mind that he couldn’t hear Legally Blonde; he found Hisoka’s friends’ bickering comforting. It reminded him of being with his younger siblings. When his eyes were closed, he could almost pretend he was home in the manor. 

Soon, Phinks arrived and the others became more focused on shouting at one another than the film. Hisoka insisted on singing songs from Legally Blonde the Musical over the movie, which resulted in Illumi crawling off of him and sitting on the floor instead. It was like having friends, almost. They weren’t his friends, and Illumi wasn’t really built for friendship either way, but he thought that this was good enough. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Chrollo asked when the movie was nearing its end. His breath smelled of vodka; Illumi wrinkled his nose. The others were embroiled in a crude drinking game, and Illumi and Chrollo were the only two not participating. 

“You are a lightweight,” Illumi said, unwilling to reveal what he was really thinking about.

Chrollo didn’t smile, but his eyes were warm and knowing. He looked like he knew what Illumi was thinking anyway. Drunk Chrollo was not dissimilar to Sober Chrollo, but Illumi soon found that while inebriated, Chrollo had no issue flopping onto the likely disgusting carpet and falling asleep, resting his head on the edge of Illumi’s thigh. 

Though Illumi tended to react violently if touched by anyone but Hisoka or his family, he allowed Chrollo to stay where he was. It wasn’t terrible, at the very least. He knew that Chrollo wasn’t his friend and that he didn’t belong in this apartment, not really, but it wouldn’t hurt to let Chrollo sleep for an hour or two. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me @ carterchilcott on both tumblr and twitter! comments make my day <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year! don't expect an update this fast ever again <3  
> note the rating change to mature if that bothers you? there is nothing explicit but there are enough suggestive/implied things that i feel better warning for it

“Good morning,” Chrollo greeted Illumi as he emerged from Hisoka’s bedroom. Illumi supposed it was his bedroom, too, but it was hard to think of the apartment as his when he still thought of the manor as his home. 

“Good morning.”

“Are you feeling any better?” Chrollo asked. He was writing something on his laptop and his hair was pulled up in a tiny ponytail on the top of his head. Illumi wondered what the purpose was. 

“I was fine yesterday and the same is true for this morning,” said Illumi. He retrieved his Cinnamon Toast Crunch from the cupboard and poured himself a bowl, waiting for the inevitable comment on his preference of eating it dry. Surprisingly, none came; the reason became apparent once Illumi turned around to find Chrollo staring, wide-eyed, at his laptop. 

Illumi was perfectly happy to leave it alone, and in fact would prefer that, but Chrollo explained, “It just died.” 

“So charge it,” Illumi replied, pulling himself up onto the counter to sit. 

“No, it was fully charged, the screen did something weird and then it died.” 

Illumi frowned. “So buy a new one?” 

Chrollo stared at Illumi incredulously, but Illumi didn’t understand why. He ate his Cinnamon Toast Crunch in silence, until a thought occurred to him. “Didn’t you spill milk on it last week.” 

“Yeah, but I put it in rice so I thought it would be fine.”

“If you ate your cereal with no milk this wouldn’t be a problem,” Illumi pointed out helpfully. 

“Thank you so much, Illumi.”

Hisoka’s door opened and he strode into the kitchen with his hallmark smile. Illumi disliked many things about Hisoka, but perhaps his least favourite was just how cheerful he tended to be after waking up. Being happy in the morning was unnatural. “Nothing brings me more joy than waking up to see Chrollo miserable,” Hisoka announced, grinning. He tugged on Chrollo’s ponytail before crossing the kitchen to where Illumi was perched.

“Brush your teeth before you kiss me,” Illumi said, holding his cereal close to his chest defensively. 

Hisoka crossed his arms, shiny nails tapping as he gave Illumi an amused look. “You’re so mean in the mornings.”

“Stop flirting, I’m busy,” Chrollo interrupted. Illumi thought he looked quite ridiculous with his strange tiny ponytail, a t-shirt that read _WWJD,_ and yet another pair of oddly-patterned boxers; these ones had polar bears on them. He must have had quite a collection. 

“Relax, we’ll just go to the computer place in the mall after Illumi’s interview since it’s across the street,” Hisoka said. 

Chrollo nodded, though he was still staring at his laptop with dread. “All of our classes are done until the evening by then.”

“You have our schedules memorized? How sweet.” 

“It makes sense to know your roommates’ schedules,” Illumi pointed out. “I’m sure you know ours.” He checked the green-lit clock on their ancient oven. “Aren’t you going to be late, Chrollo?”

“Fuck.” The doomed laptop was slammed shut and Chrollo bolted into his room. 

Illumi had lived in this apartment for just under three weeks, but he knew that on Mondays, Chrollo had Christian Social Thought early in the morning and an introductory ASL course at noon, while Hisoka had Creative Collaboration (a class that mystified Illumi), some sort of advanced philosophy course, and an introductory class on Greek Mythology. He didn’t particularly care about any of their classes; they sounded boring, useless, and all around dreadful, but leftover habits from his childhood made partial to knowing where each element of his home was at all times. He also had both of his roommates’ work schedules memorized.

He put that unfortunate train of thought away and focused on finishing his cereal.

Illumi had dreaded Econometric Analysis and two math classes on Mondays. He didn’t have enough space in his schedule for electives like Hisoka and Chrollo did; he was double majoring in economics and math. He enjoyed math; economics, on the other hand, was what his parents chose for him. 

Chrollo, armed with an empty-looking bag and untied shoes, rushed out the door after presumably hastily dressing himself. His hair was sticking up, revealing his forehead tattoo to the world.

Hisoka pushed Illumi’s curtain of hair behind his ear. “Your breakfast choices are truly disturbing.”

Illumi hooked his legs around Hisoka’s thighs and pulled him flush against his hips. Hisoka gently removed the cereal from Illumi’s hands and looped his arms around Illumi’s waist. Illumi sighed into the touch and returned the embrace, ducking out of Hisoka’s attempts to kiss him. “You are a slut,” he said into Hisoka’s bare chest. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Being around Hisoka sometimes felt unnatural; it shouldn’t be possible to have him this close every day, every hour. When he lived in the manor, seeing Hisoka felt like a reward for bearing his parents’ expectations. Now, he was overindulging; he slept in Hisoka’s bed and he got to kiss him over breakfast. It was wrong.

Hisoka pressed a kiss to Illumi’s cheek, soothing his tumultuous thoughts. “Calling me a slut isn’t very PC. What do you have against people who are sexually active?”

“Would you prefer that I call you a whore?” Illumi asked, tilting Hisoka’s chin up so they were eye to eye. “Perhaps a hussy?”

“I only spread my legs for you, Illu.”

Something warm burned in Illumi’s chest at that; he was far too possessive, and hearing Hisoka say that pleased him more than he’d like to admit. He pulled Hisoka into a bruising kiss, but Hisoka only indulged in him for a few seconds. “You have class.”

“I’ll drop out,” Illumi answered, eyes flicking between Hisoka’s eyes and his lips.

Hisoka grinned, fox-eyes smug. “And I’m the hussy.” He disentangled from Illumi’s octopus grip and started the coffeemaker. “You’ll yell at me later if I let you be late.” 

Illumi continued to stare, unblinking. Hisoka walked away. 

* * *

Illumi slipped onto the empty stool beside Hisoka in the crowded Starbucks in Heaven’s Arena, the mall that Chrollo and most of his irritating friends worked in. Chrollo looked at Illumi. “So?”

“I start next Tuesday,” Illumi answered. The interview had been surprisingly short; there were a few questions about his previous work experience, but the woman, as Hisoka had predicted, mostly scrutinized his appearance. 

Chrollo reached over the table to pat him on the shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and instead gave him an awkward thumbs up. “Congratulations, Illumi.” 

“I never thought I would see you working a minimum wage job,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “This will be interesting. Perhaps I’ll send your parents a thank-you note.” 

Illumi wrinkled his nose. “I don’t even know how much minimum wage is,” he admitted. Hisoka burst into laughter, while Chrollo’s gaze seemed almost pitying. He sipped the coffee they’d bought for him and pointedly ignored Hisoka’s attempts to talk to him.

After dropping off Chrollo’s laptop, Hisoka dragged them into some clothing store Illumi couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. The lights were garish and bright and the clothes on display were cheap and poorly made; Hisoka seemed to like it anyway. 

“How do I look?” Hisoka asked, holding a frilly-sleeved shirt that looked small enough to fit a baby up to his chest.

“That might fit one of your arms,” Chrollo replied. 

“I think it’s becoming,” Hisoka said. He tossed it carelessly back onto the shelf. 

Chrollo crossed his arms and looked around. “This is all women’s clothing, Hisoka.” His tattoo was covered by one of his ugly bandanas, so Illumi couldn’t see the stress lines surely decorating his forehead. 

“I could say the same thing about Illumi’s closet,” Hisoka pointed out. “What’s your point? Are you feeling—” 

“I am not feeling emasculated,” Chrollo interrupted. 

“So you’re just—”

“I’m not homophobic, either.” 

Hisoka made a see-saw gesture. “I mean, if it looks like a duck and swims like a duck—”

“Stop calling me homophobic, Hisoka, I’m not homophobic,” Chrollo snapped. “Illumi, what do you think?”

Illumi looked between Hisoka and Chrollo; the former was grinning like the cat who got the cream and the latter was staring at Illumi with a calmness that would have been deeply alarming if Illumi were anyone else. He didn’t want to involve himself in Hisoka’s ploy to rile up Chrollo, but he sensed neither of them would be willing to let it go, so he said, “I don’t know. Father makes comments about me wearing women’s clothing all the time.” 

Hisoka’s resulting laughter was loud enough that an employee interrupted their conversation to escort them out of the store. Chrollo looked severely uncomfortable. 

“I don’t understand why you shop there,” Illumi said. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but Chrollo looked ready to keep arguing and Illumi didn’t want it to turn into a conversation about his parents. “It’s so cheap.”

“Cheap is all you can afford at the moment, darling,” Hisoka pointed out. “Besides,” he continued, tugging at the shirt he was wearing, “you seem to like it when it’s on me.” 

“Yes, but…” he trailed off, frowning. “I don’t know. I don’t like it.” 

“Your parents let you keep all of your clothes, didn’t they?” Chrollo asked. “I don’t see the problem.”

Illumi slanted a dark look at Chrollo. “They didn’t _let_ me do anything. I moved out.”

“You can’t seriously—” 

“Chrollo,” Hisoka interrupted. “We don’t want Illumi to have a breakdown and ruin everything.” Illumi elbowed him in the ribs. Hisoka didn’t react, but Illumi didn’t care; he knew it had been hard enough to leave a dark bruise.

“Your relationship is so unhealthy,” Chrollo said. 

“And you know so much about being in a relationship?” Illumi asked. “I don’t recall any of your past girlfriends, unless you’ve been keeping secrets.”

Hisoka ruffled Chrollo’s hair. “That’s because he’s secretly gay.”

Suddenly, Chrollo froze. His gaze was focused on a group of teenage girls crowded in the Hot Topic entrance; all of their phones were out and they seemed to be searching for someone. Chrollo quickly ducked into the nearest store, a very crowded Sephora. Illumi and Hisoka followed, confused.

“If you’re that scared of women I don’t think Sephora was a great choice,” Hisoka pointed out.

Illumi poked his head out of the store; the crowd of girls was still there. “Do you know them, Chrollo?”

Chrollo sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “They hang out in the store when I’m working. I don’t want them to recognize me.”

Illumi wrinkled his nose. “Why would they recognize you?”

“Yeah, Chrollo, why would they pay attention to you?” Hisoka echoed with a sharp-toothed grin. 

“Are you finding everything okay?” a Sephora employee interrupted, giving Illumi a bright smile. 

“We’re okay, thanks.” It was rare to find Chrollo genuinely flustered, but he seemed upset by the situation. Once the employee drifted away, he continued, “They follow me around and take pictures of me. They’re always asking me about my tattoo and where I go to school and my last name. It’s weird.” 

An expression of pure glee overtook Hisoka’s face. “You have a fan club and you didn’t tell us? This is gold, I can’t believe you hid this from me.” He took his phone from his pocket and started searching something up. 

“Have you ever called security?” Illumi asked. He knew that Hisoka revelled in Chrollo’s suffering, but the situation he described sounded rather uncomfortable. 

A sigh, like this was an old argument. “My boss doesn’t want me to because they’re good customers.” 

“I mean, it’s the only female attention you’ll ever get. I hope they know you’re gay.” 

“I’m not—”

“Look what I found,” Hisoka interrupted triumphantly. He thrust his phone toward Illumi and Chrollo. On it was an Instagram page, full of photos of Chrollo in his typical work getup. Most were unflattering, but the account seemed to have a significant following. 

Illumi tapped on the screen, enlarging a photo of Chrollo, presumably on his lunch break at the mall’s Taco Bell. “This seems rather illegal.”

Chrollo took the phone from Hisoka’s hand. “What the hell? It says it’s followed by Machi.” 

“They’re coming this way,” Hisoka said. “Better watch out, Chrollo.” 

Chrollo ducked behind one of the shelves, earning a few odd looks. Illumi watched as the swarm of teenagers passed by Sephora, chattering obliviously. 

Illumi waited until the girls had cleared a significant distance away from Sephora before turning to Chrollo. “You can come out now.”

Still looking quite suspicious, Chrollo followed Hisoka and Illumi back into the corridor. They walked away from the girls, toward the Hot Topic where they’d first been spotted. “Hisoka was going to show me the taco place,” Illumi said, casting his eyes toward the direction they’d come from. “Are those girls that bad? I wanted to go.” He had passed it on the way into the mall, but since he had to meet with Hisoka and Chrollo, he couldn’t stop. Now, though, Chrollo’s groupies were creating an obstacle. 

Chrollo looked confused. “Taco Bell? You’ve never been?” 

“My parents didn’t allow me frivolities like fast food. Perhaps you could wait here?” Illumi looked to Hisoka for support. Milluki had been allowed to eat what he wanted; if Illumi was stuck in a tiny apartment, he may as well experience the world he was usually well above. 

“I’ll come with you, it’s okay,” Chrollo assured them. “That’s pretty sad, Illumi.”

“What is?”

Illumi watched as Hisoka and Chrollo shared a look he couldn’t parse. “Nothing, nevermind.” 

It was soon discovered that Illumi very much disliked Taco Bell. They did spot Chrollo’s devout followers, but luckily went unnoticed. Illumi thought that he noticed a familiar shock of shiny black hair in the group, but the person disappeared before he could know for sure. He brushed it off; it didn’t make sense for Kalluto to be there, anyway. 

“You’re going to be late for class if we stay any longer, Illumi,” Chrollo pointed out after checking the time on his phone.

Illumi looked at his phone as well. Chrollo was right in that he had class soon, but Illumi cared more about the lack of notifications on his lock screen; he had texted Killua when he first moved out, but his little brother did not answer. He hadn’t answered, but Illumi still tried texting him every few days to no response. The only people who texted him other than Hisoka and Chrollo were his parents, regarding tedious details about transferring Illumi’s phone bill to his name and things he had left in the manor that they’d thrown out. 

* * *

Hisoka was hunched over his laptop when Illumi returned from class, typing rather furiously at the rickety dinner table. Reading glasses were perched on his sloping nose, but as usual they were slipping off. It made something in Illumi’s chest twist. 

“You have a desk,” Illumi pointed out. 

“The room is too messy. It puts my aura out of alignment,” Hisoka responded nonsensically, still mostly focused on whatever he was writing.

Illumi plucked his glasses off of his face. “I suppose this is your way of asking me to unpack.”

Hisoka squinted adorably at his laptop. Perhaps Illumi should steal his glasses more often. “I’m not your mother, though that would be interesting, but I do think unpacking is the natural next step to moving in,” he said. He looked up at Illumi, who was inspecting the reading glasses. “Unless you’re being neurotic about this.”

“You’re neurotic,” Illumi said. “I don’t want to unpack.” 

Hisoka snatched his glasses back. “Your lack of self awareness is not attractive.” 

“I knew you only liked me for my body.” Illumi padded into the kitchen and stared at the grocery list on the fridge. “When are we going shopping?”

“After you unpack.”

“Will you help me?” 

Hisoka shut his laptop. “If I help you we’re just going to have sex.” 

“That was the point, Hisoka.”

Hisoka stood and crowded Illumi against the kitchen counter. “We could just skip the packing, you know.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” Illumi said, voice barely a whisper against Hisoka’s mouth. Illumi pulled himself onto the counter and crossed his ankles behind Hisoka’s back, anchoring him in place.

“Get out of my kitchen,” a voice said from across the room before Hisoka could reply. Illumi peered over Hisoka’s shoulder to see Chrollo, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

With a sigh, Illumi let Hisoka go. “I’m starting to think you’re running an active campaign against my sex life,” said Hisoka. “Or maybe you’re just homophobic.” 

“I’m not homophobic, I would just appreciate it if you stopped desecrating my kitchen,” Chrollo seethed. Illumi cocked his head; Chrollo was not easily flustered.

“It’s our kitchen too,” Hisoka pointed out. “You’re so uptight. I think you would feel better if you got fucked.”

“I don’t need to get fucked, Hisoka. Am I gay or homophobic? Make up your mind.” 

Hisoka shrugged, something that was far too attractive on his broad, sloping shoulders. “Only you can answer that question, Chrollo. I’d suggest perhaps talking to a therapist about it.” 

“Christ almighty, you—”

“Language,” Illumi said in unison with Hisoka. 

“You know, I’m sure I could hook you up with someone,” Hisoka said thoughtfully. “I know this guy—”

“I don’t need to get fucked!” 

“Whatever.” Hisoka ruffled Chrollo’s hair; the casual affection set a flame of jealousy alight in Illumi’s chest. “I, on the other hand,” Hisoka continued grandly, “was looking forward to getting fucked. Illumi?” He held out his elbow like he was escorting Illumi down a red carpet instead of dragging him back to their bedroom because he was unable to control himself. Illumi, feeling slighted by Chrollo’s attitude, took Hisoka’s arm and let himself be led away.

Illumi’s characteristic single-minded focus bordering on obsession was not applicable during sex. He was flighty, easily distracted, and easily bored; usually, this worked out well for Hisoka, who loved nothing more than a challenge. He seemed to enjoy it a little less at times like this, when his panting wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out the sound of Illumi’s phone buzzing on the nightstand. 

Distracted, Illumi pulled away from Hisoka, wiped the saliva from his mouth, and checked his phone. On his lock screen was a notification for a message from Killua. A wave of something warm and hopeful crested in his chest, but the feeling melted into despair when he read the text: _wrong number, sry_ _._

“Why’d you stop?” Hisoka whined, tugging on Illumi’s wrist. 

“Hm,” Illumi said quietly. “No reason.” 

Hisoka frowned, scrutinizing Illumi's expression. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.”

“Are you going to cry?” Hisoka looked over at the phone on the table suspiciously. “You look like you might cry.”

“I’m not going to cry. Hurry up.” 

“Sir, yes sir.”

* * *

While Illumi wiped at the half-dried tear tracks on his cheeks, Hisoka leaned over him to retrieve something from the nightstand. Illumi tugged at his wrist, willing him to lie back down; he thought he might die if Hisoka left him alone.

“I see,” Hisoka said, putting whatever he had grabbed back on the table. “Killua.”

If Illumi was awake enough, he would have shoved Hisoka onto the floor. Unfortunately, he was too comfortable and very wrung out, so he only jabbed Hisoka in the ribs. “Fuck you.” 

“You did,” Hisoka said. “Remember how you said you weren’t going to cry?” 

Illumi let a familiar blankness overcome him; he didn’t like being present when Hisoka forced him to have uncomfortable conversations about feelings. “You usually like it when I cry.” 

Hisoka ran a hand through Illumi’s sweat-damp hair. “I can't believe I have to say this, but crying from pleasure is not the same as crying because you’re sad. Did you even enjoy it?”

He shoved Hisoka’s shoulder, irritated with this line of questioning, but there was no force behind it. It was clear that Hisoka was genuinely worried about him, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with niceties or genuine displays of emotion. “I would have said something if I didn’t like it; I have no problem telling you no. Stop worrying, it's irritating.” A pause. “And I’m not sad.” 

Hisoka sighed with exasperation, but he looked relieved. “I would love to do a study on whatever your parents did to your brain to make you like this. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“You go all blank when you don’t want to be upset to remove yourself from the situation.”

Illumi rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow. “Leave me alone. I’m tired.” Embarrassingly, he felt more tears creep into his eyes. 

“No sleeping, we have to shower.” When Illumi refused to answer, Hisoka sighed. “I’ll leave it be. I’ll even wash your stupid hair for you.”

“S’not stupid,” Illumi mumbled, but he allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position.

Hisoka dropped a kiss on his shoulder. “Get up. I don’t want to carry you.” Still, Illumi didn’t move; he didn’t have the energy. 

“I’m even pretending not to see you crying right now because you’ll get angry if I point it out,” Hisoka said. “I’m very nice. Now get up.” 

“You just pointed it out,” Illumi sniffed. “Please carry me.”

Hisoka pressed his forehead to Illumi’s. “I will carry you on two conditions.”

“What.”

“First: I’m not helping you get dressed. You always ask me to but then you get pissy about being manhandled.”

“I don’t want to get dressed.” 

“So you want Chrollo to see your dick?”

“...Fine.” He leaned away from Hisoka, searching the ground for his discarded clothing. “What is your second condition?”

“You have to promise to talk about your family at some point, Illu. Not tonight, though preferably soon since you just cried all over my—”

“If you finish that sentence I will end you.” Illumi pulled on his boxers and an old t-shirt and focused his dark, empty stare on Hisoka. “I am only saying yes to your conditions because you’re going to wash my hair.”

Hisoka grinned, catlike. “Of course, darling.” He quickly dressed and, as promised, carried Illumi to the bathroom down the hall. It was less of a comfortable bridal carry and more like Hisoka throwing Illumi over his shoulder, but Illumi was too exhausted to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried my hardest to make this chapter mostly happier but it got away from me ... whoops! 
> 
> chat w me on twt/tumblr @ carterchilcott !! comments make me smile !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Paku, can you take care of the potatoes?” Hisoka asked. 
> 
> From across the house, Machi shouted, “Is it because she’s a woman?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a plot slowly happening i promise its just slow going because i get distracted by writing chrollo

“I’m breaking up with you,” Illumi said, crossing his arms. 

Hisoka snatched the bag out of his hands. “Don’t be so dramatic, Illu.” 

“I’m serious. I think we should end things.”

“You’re insane.” Hisoka grabbed at Illumi’s wrist, but Illumi wretched it away. He threw himself onto the ancient sofa like it was a fainting couch.

“You want me dead. That’s why you’re doing this to me.”

Hisoka had gone shopping while Illumi was at work, and Illumi had needed new conditioner because his old one had run out. What Hisoka returned with was a drugstore brand. 

“I looked up the stuff you usually use,” Hisoka said. “Your parents are no longer here to buy you two hundred dollar conditioner, Illumi.” 

“I hate being poor. My hair is going to fall out.” He tugged on his ponytail with a put-upon sigh.

Chrollo, who had been listening from the kitchen, took the bag from Hisoka and inspected the conditioner Illumi was so upset about. “I understand that it’s hard to adjust to a completely new lifestyle after growing up in a manor with butlers,” he said, holding up the bottle of hair product, “but pick your battles, Illumi.” 

Hisoka elbowed Chrollo and stage-whispered, “No, maybe this will trigger the breakdown we’ve been waiting for.” 

“I am going to ignore that you said that because I am nice,” Illumi said. He stood up with a flourish and stared at Hisoka with a look that Chrollo would find identical to his usual blank gaze, but that his boyfriend would understand as threatening. As expected, Hisoka grinned in response. “No one has asked me how my first shift went. You’re both quite rude.” 

“Tell us how your first shift went,” Hisoka echoed. 

“Thank you, Hisoka. It was fine. My manager said that I am unpleasant and off-putting to customers but the work is extremely easy.” Illumi hadn’t meant to be rude and off-putting, but he had been told on multiple occasions that his natural way of speaking was unsettling. It was much too inconvenient, however, to change his demeanour for a job that paid pennies. 

“You would think they’d have noticed that in the interview,” Chrollo said thoughtfully. “It’s pretty obvious.” 

Illumi looked to Hisoka. “Are you going to defend me against this heathen?” 

“He’s right, though,” Hisoka said, with a toothy grin and mischievous eyes. Before Illumi could respond, he continued, “Don’t fret, pet, I still like you.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What would you prefer? Darling, dearest, honey, sugar, pumpkin, snookums—”

“Living with you two was the worst decision of my life,” Chrollo interrupted. “Go live somewhere else.” 

A cold rush of ice flooded Illumi’s chest at the all too familiar words. He was sure Chrollo was kidding; he found it difficult to tell when people were joking, but the situation didn’t seem to warrant kicking Hisoka and Illumi onto the street. He knew this, but he still felt sick to his stomach.

Hisoka made searing eye contact with Illumi for only a fraction of a second before he said, “Living with us was the worst decision of your life? Not… hmm, may I remind you of something? It’s black, shaped like a cross, and oh, in the middle of your forehead?” He crossed the room and stood behind Illumi, draping himself like a particularly warm and irritating shawl across Illumi’s shoulders. “Besides, you wouldn’t kick poor Illu out again, would you?” 

Illumi flicked his cheek, annoyed that he brought attention to it. Usually, he was punished severely for pointing out trivial grievances like Chrollo’s thoughtless statement; it was disrespectful and disobedient. Hisoka was the only exception to that rule, and he didn’t know Chrollo well enough to predict his behaviour. To his surprise, though, Chrollo sombered. “Sorry, Illumi, that was insensitive of me.” At Illumi’s blank stare, he added, “I know you don’t like it when people are nice to you, but for my peace of mind I can’t let you go on thinking you’ll be made to leave again.”

An uncomfortable silence descended over the room. Another unpleasant sensation settled in Illumi’s heart; he wasn’t anxious, or upset, but the feeling was unfamiliar. He hated it when people expressed emotions at him. It made him feel claustrophobic. 

“This is the part where normal people respond,” Hisoka said, pressing his cheek against Illumi’s. “Though I suppose normal people don’t go into anaphylactic shock at the first sign of healthy communication.” He waved a hand at Chrollo. “Give him a few minutes and he’ll figure out what’s going on in his repressed little brain.” 

“I am right here,” Illumi said. “I don’t appreciate what you just said.” 

Hisoka laughed, and Illumi felt it against his face. “You weren’t supposed to.”

Chrollo’s phone chimed. He opened it and said, “Paku’s invited us over to the girls’ house Saturday night.” 

“Weren’t you going there anyway this weekend?” Illumi pointed out. “What is the point of asking again?” 

The phone buzzed again. “She says they want Hisoka to make dinner.”

Illumi had known for a long time that Hisoka was a very capable cook; sometimes he tried to teach Illumi, which Illumi found hopelessly endearing (though he’d never admit it) even if he was an utter disaster in the kitchen. He had also learned that, until recently, Hisoka and Chrollo’s friends had been mostly unaware of Hisoka’s skill, and now kept bothering him to make them home-cooked meals instead of instant noodles. Illumi was proud that he had been in on this supposed secret for long before anyone else; he liked to have bits of Hisoka all to himself. 

“Tell them I’ll send them a list of ingredients we don’t have,” Hisoka said. He peeled himself off of Illumi and poked his head into the fridge, searching for something. “I’m not buying anything for them.” 

“Have you been to their house before, Illumi?” Chrollo asked. “It’s actually really nice for student housing. The kitchen got renovated right before they moved in because the previous tenants set it on fire or something.” 

Illumi frowned. “I didn’t think I was invited.” 

Chrollo looked at Hisoka. Illumi was getting tired of the two of them sharing unhappy glances after he spoke. “Paku said all three of us, so if you want to come you can.”

Illumi shook his head and was briefly distracted by his hair shimmering as it moved. “I have to work that evening, so I can’t go anyway. Someone had a baby or is watching a baby or died or something, so I have to go in.” 

Chrollo hummed and typed something on his phone. Only a few seconds later, it buzzed and he said, “Paku says we can do Sunday, if that works for you.”

Something short-circuited in Illumi’s brain. “If you want to do it on Sunday you can.” 

Chrollo sighed. “Are you coming, though?”

“I suppose.”

“They consider you a friend, Illumi.” He gestured at Hisoka. “Not just his boyfriend. You’re one of us in your own right.” 

If he had been confused when Pakunoda changed the date of their dinner just for him, he was completely lost now. He didn’t think of any of Hisoka’s friends as his friends; he didn’t even consider Chrollo a friend, really. Hisoka was the only person outside of his family he let into his inner circle, and that in itself was difficult enough. His parents forbid him having friends, but even if it was permitted, it was much easier to go without connections to others. It prevented the odd, twisting feeling in his chest he felt when Chrollo did something nice for him, or the constant and irritating need to know if Hisoka was safe. 

“Okay,” was all Illumi said, though Hisoka gave him a knowing look.

“I’m surprised they asked you back to work so quickly,” Hisoka said, thankfully changing the topic. “You’re very mean.” 

Illumi wrinkled his nose. “I expect no one else was available.”

“Didn’t you say you had experience with this stuff from your parents?” Chrollo asked. “How did you get away with being so…”

“Rude?” Hisoka finished for him. “Unsettling? Creepy and weirdly calm? I could go on.”

Illumi sighed. “Please don’t. Anyway, I suppose I’ve misled you, Chrollo. I’ve done some administrative work but most of my duties were elsewhere. They knew I wasn’t very useful.” 

“I googled the Zoldycks. You don’t have to be so vague about what they do if it’s just insurance,” Chrollo said. “I mean, insurance companies are nothing more than thieves dressed in expensive suits, but I already expected something like that from your general upbringing.” 

“Hm,” Illumi said. He ignored Hisoka’s unrelenting stare. 

Chrollo raised an eyebrow. It made his forehead tattoo crease in a way that was particularly ugly. “Hm?” 

“Hm,” Illumi repeated. “What time are we to be at Pakunoda’s on Sunday?” 

“Six. Why?”

“I just like to know.”

“Illumi, come here,” Hisoka interrupted. “Look what I found.” 

Hisoka proceeded to show him a photo from the Instagram account of Chrollo’s stalkers. Off to one side and barely visible in the crowd of young teenagers was Kalluto.

Illumi missed his siblings very much. Kalluto did not have a phone, so Illumi had no way to contact them. Their parents weren’t keen on letting Illumi back home to visit just yet, so it had been weeks since he had spoken to his younger sibling.

He took Hisoka’s phone to look more closely at the photo. “This is very far from the manor. The Hot Topic Kalluto used to make me take them to was much closer to home.” It also didn’t make sense for Kalluto to be involved in the group that was bordering on stalking Chrollo. 

Chrollo craned his neck to look at the photo. “That’s Kalluto? I’ve seen them a few times.”

It felt unwise to even hope, but Illumi couldn’t think of another reason Kalluto would be so far from home. “Maybe they know we know each other.” He looked up at Chrollo. “My parents don’t want me to see any of my siblings.”

“I can keep an eye out for them if you want?” Chrollo’s voice was unbearably awkward. He was looking at Illumi with a half-smile that made Illumi want to hurt him. 

“Okay.” Illumi wondered what his parents were doing at home if Kalluto had to resort to this avenue to contact Illumi. (Assuming that’s what Kalluto was doing; Illumi chose to ignore any other possibility.)

* * *

“Aren’t we going to be late for Paku’s?” Illumi asked. Hisoka was still not ready to leave; Illumi would normally be upset that Hisoka was making them late, but he enjoyed watching him put on makeup. 

“We’d be late for Paku’s if I was ready,” Hisoka replied. “Chrollo’s been playing Osu all day and he probably forgot.” 

“I’ll go remind him.” 

Chrollo did not respond to the knock on his bedroom door, so Illumi walked inside. As expected, Chrollo was wearing bulky headphones. Less expectedly, he was only wearing boxers. Illumi averted his eyes and plucked the headphones off of his head.

“What the— Illumi?” His ears seemed to turn red. “Do you need something?”

Illumi looked around Chrollo’s room; one wall was covered by a large, overstuffed bookshelf, and the others were blank and boring. It was similar to Illumi’s room in the manor. 

“We are going to be late to dinner at Pakunoda’s,” Illumi said. He turned his gaze back to Chrollo to find him trying to cover his bare chest with his hands.

“I forgot that was today.” 

“Yes.” Illumi turned to leave.

“Can you or Hisoka tell them we’re going to be late? I don’t have my phone. I lost it at work, some kid probably stole it.” 

Illumi nodded and left.

“I wish he would put on a shirt,” Illumi sighed to Hisoka when he returned to the bathroom to watch him put on lipstick. “It clearly makes him uncomfortable to be seen naked.” 

“You did walk into his bedroom without warning,” Hisoka pointed out. “Though I do find it funny when his Catholic upbringing comes out. Anyway, you don’t care when I walk around naked.” 

Illumi tugged at his hair. “We are in a relationship. I like seeing you naked.” 

“I should hope so.”

* * *

Chrollo was right; the girls’ house was very nice. The kitchen was shiny and new, closer to the kitchen in the manor than the shitty one at the apartment. 

Illumi felt untethered in this home of near-strangers. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to talk to strangers; he’d been to countless galas and auctions with his father or in his father’s stead. He just wasn’t very good at it, was all. Especially now; he’d gotten much too comfortable living with Hisoka and Chrollo. The healthy dose of fear always waiting to pounce in the back of his mind had calmed somewhat, but now, in a new environment, it was back in full force. It was almost a comfort. 

“Hi, Illumi,” Shizuku greeted him. Her glasses made her eyes look big, sort of like Illumi’s. Illumi was tempted to pluck them off her nose. 

“Hello,” Illumi said. He knew very little of Shizuku; she usually stuck closely to Pakunoda. He supposed the same could be said about him with Hisoka.

“You look uncomfortable.” She pushed her hair behind her ear and looked over Illumi’s shoulder. “Do you want something to drink?” 

He shook his head and followed her into the kitchen, where Pakunoda was rummaging through the cupboards. Hisoka, Chrollo, and Machi could be heard arguing about something or other in the next room over. 

“How are you liking the apartment?” Paku asked. She hoisted herself onto the counter so she could reach something on the top shelf: a bottle of boxed wine. Illumi wrinkled his nose. 

“It’s small,” Illumi said. “I don’t like using communal washing machines.”

Pakunoda smiled, like she expected his response. “It must have been a big change.” She popped open the bottle of wine. “Do you know what Hisoka’s making? He wouldn’t say.” 

“No, he said it was a surprise. He brought a lot of spices, though.” 

“I wonder where he learned to cook,” Shizuku said. “Illumi, can you get the nice glasses off the top shelf? None of us can reach it.” 

Illumi nodded. “He must have learned when he was young. It’s not like he had parents to do it for him,” he said as he retrieved the delicate glasses. “The first time he came to my house in high school, he insisted on cooking for me even though we have chefs.” A pregnant pause. “Well, had.” 

“Always a flirt, then,” Pakunoda said. 

He nodded and found himself almost smiling. “He is unrelenting.”

Illumi set the glasses on the table and followed the sound of Hisoka’s voice to the living room. He was sitting on the arm of the ratty couch, lecturing an unhappy-looking Machi about something Illumi did not understand. 

“I’m just saying that Urbosa is clearly the hottest champion,” he was saying. “I can appreciate Revali’s roguish personality, but he’s a bird, Machi.” 

“And Sidon is a fish, but you don’t see me shaming you,” Machi spat. Illumi recognized the name she said; it was a character Hisoka found attractive. “You just like to objectify women.”

“I’ve never claimed that I’m not sexist,” Hisoka said primly. 

“You’re both wrong. It’s clearly Mipha,” Chrollo announced. “And Mipha’s Grace is the most useful of the champions’ abilities by far.”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about who’s the hottest, Chrollo.”

“Didn’t that game come out three years ago?” Pakunoda interrupted.

Machi scoffed. “Breath of the Wild is a timeless masterpiece, but more importantly, Revali is hot.”

“I agree with Hisoka,” Shizuku cut in. “I’ve only ever watched Machi play, but the desert lady is the hottest.”

“Okay, whatever,” Machi said. “Hisoka, I’m hungry. We invited you here for a reason.” 

Hisoka ruffled Machi’s fluffy mullet. “I’m a guest, you know. You’re very rude.” He flounced off to the kitchen, complaining under his breath too quietly for Illumi to make out the words. 

Illumi followed, leaving the others. Watching Hisoka cook was one of his favourite things to do. Having been forced to mature younger than most, Hisoka was an extremely capable person; still, it was rare that he showed it and even rarer that he used his knowledge to be constructive rather than a nuisance. 

“Do you want to help?” Hisoka asked. He was cutting onions into tiny pieces. “You should probably learn sooner or later.” 

“I just want to watch.” Another thing about Hisoka’s cooking that Illumi liked was that it didn’t remind him of his parents. At home, the chefs took care of anything; he had no memories of watching his mother or father serving them food. This experience was entirely his own. 

Soon, the smell of food attracted the others. They were banished from the kitchen and instead crowded at the adjacent dinner table. “I wish I had someone who would do all the cooking for me,” Machi sighed. “I’m jealous, Illumi.” 

“I do this because it’s fun. You’re all just reaping the benefits,” Hisoka said, ever unwilling to do things out of the goodness of his heart. 

“Not even for Illumi?” Machi pressed.

“Maybe for Illumi,” Hisoka admitted, “but he also sleeps with me.” 

Illumi smiled. He was well aware that he had a possessive streak a mile wide, and Hisoka wasn’t helping. 

Chrollo scoffed. “You’ll make a good housewife with that theatre degree.”

Hisoka turned around and thrust the knife he was holding in Chrollo’s general direction. “I’d be an amazing housewife. I look very good in aprons.”

Illumi nodded. “He does.” 

“What program are you in again, Chrollo?” Shizuku asked. “Isn’t it weird?” 

Hisoka burst into laughter. Illumi liked his laugh; it was just a touch too loud. “Yeah, Chrollo, tell her what program you’re in.” 

“It’s Christian studies, and it’s not weird,” Chrollo muttered. “Aren’t you in film, Shizuku? That’s worse.”

Pakunoda wrapped her arm around Chrollo’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with Christian studies or film, you two.” 

Chrollo leaned his head on her shoulder. “At least it’s not econ.”

“Excuse me,” Illumi said, though he didn’t much like econ, either.

“His parents made him take econ because they’re tyrants,” Hisoka interrupted. “No bullying allowed until he gets over getting kicked out of the house.”

Machi gasped. “You’re so insensitive, I can’t believe you. Blink twice if you’re in trouble, Illumi.” 

Hisoka smirked. “Ha. He likes it more when I’m mean to him.” He held his empty hands up in Illumi’s direction. “Illu, my hands are greasy, can you put that in the oven? Ten minutes, it’s already preheated.” He gestured to the baking sheet sitting on top of the stove; on it was something that look rather nasty uncooked but smelled delicious. 

Illumi opened the oven and put the baking sheet inside. He felt his hand touch something metal; his hand twinged. He’d forgotten it was so hot. He closed the oven. 

Hisoka waved a hand in Illumi’s general direction, focused whatever task he was engrossed in, before finishing it and turning around. “Can you get me — Illumi, what the fuck, did you grab the grill? Your hand is so red.” 

Illumi inspected his right hand. It was pretty pink, and it stung a little bit. “It’s an oven,” he said. “It is hot.” 

“I have to do everything in this house,” Hisoka muttered to himself. He grabbed Illumi’s wrist and dragged him over to the sink, where he turned on the faucet and stuck Illumi’s hand under the stream. 

Illumi frowned. “It’s cold, Hisoka.” Though he had to admit that the cold soothed his skin. 

“Yeah, idiot, that’s the point.” Hisoka sighed and looked over to the others. “Do you guys have a first aid kit or something?” 

Machi nodded. “We have Neosporin in the bathroom. Keep running it under water, Illumi.” 

Illumi found it odd that they were making such a big deal out of a measly burn. It barely hurt, and it would be healed and forgotten within a few days. He knew that he had a rather high pain tolerance, but he wasn’t a child. 

“Paku, can you take care of the potatoes?” Hisoka asked. 

From across the house, Machi shouted, “Is it because she’s a woman?” 

“If you want Chrollo or Shizuku to do it your fancy new kitchen will burn down,” Hioska shouted back. He gave Pakunoda some quiet instructions before hoisting himself up onto the counter beside the sink. “You’re not usually clumsy,” he pointed out. “I know you know how to use an oven.”

“I grew up with personal chefs, you peasant.”

Hisoka kicked him. “You need to take care of yourself when you get injured.” 

Illumi frowned. “This is not an injury.”

“You’re hurt.” He pushed Illumi’s curtain of hair away from his face. “Your insanely high pain tolerance won’t stop the burn from getting infected. What if you die of sepsis, Illu? I would have to kill you.” 

“I would be dead,” Illumi pointed out. “No murder necessary. A burn won’t kill me and neither will you.” 

Machi returned with the Neosporin and set it down beside Illumi. “Keep it under water for five or ten minutes before putting that on.” She squinted at him. “Pretending it doesn’t hurt won’t make it not hurt, you know.”

“I’m not pretending.” His parents were not gentle people, and under their orders he’d done some rather dangerous things. At this point, a burn was nothing. “I have a high pain tolerance.” 

Machi shook her head and sighed. “You’re so odd.” 

Reluctantly, Illumi let the cold water run over his hand until Hisoka judged that it had been long enough. The feeling of being taken care of was… nice, sort of, but the very thought made him feel guilty. He didn’t need help to function, and besides, it was probably a bad idea to get used to the others being nice to him. 

“C’mon, dinner’s ready,” Hisoka said eventually. “Someone else set the table, I’ve already made you dinner.” 

“Go on, Chrollo,” Machi said. When he opened his mouth to speak, she put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “Misogynist.” 

“You can’t milk the woman thing forever,” Chrollo said, though he did as she said.

“I can’t believe you just said that.” 

“He has a lot of issues,” Hisoka said, nodding. “Internalized homophobia does that to you.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Hisoka pulled his chair closer to Illumi’s at the far-too-small dinner table. Illumi allowed himself a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my real endgame is illumi paku shizuku friendship ... hisoillu who. anyway follow me on tumblr / twt @ carterchilcott, comments make my day !


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have I ever lied to you, Kalluto? Me, your brother-in-law?”
> 
> “We aren’t married,” Illumi pointed out, elbowing Hisoka in the side. 
> 
> Hisoka waved a hand vaguely in Illumi’s direction. “Not yet, dear.”
> 
> “Ew,” Kalluto said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual plot! much more kalluto zoldyck than i initially intended! written much too late at night! enjoy!

Illumi had always known that family was the most important thing in the world; he needed his family. No one outside of his family would ever love him; he was odd and unsettling and had done things most would find inexcusable. Hisoka was the exception to this; Illumi could understand why Hisoka cared for him. 

It was because Hisoka was mentally disturbed. Or, Illumi thought so. 

Though there were many instances that proved this, though the one currently on Illumi’s mind was the scene he found before him when he returned from class. Hisoka was in a one-handed handstand, clad only in a pair of Illumi’s too-small pants, as he recited some passage he had to memorize for one of his classes. Illumi could only imagine what purpose the handstand served to his creative process. He seemed to be in the middle of it when Illumi walked into the apartment. 

“...don’t you know it’s your chastity that turned my desire to cruelty? Woe, woe upon cold-hearted women! It’s clear you had an impeccable upbringing — as I did.” He paused to grin at Illumi with an attractive hint of teeth and switched from balancing on his right hand to his left, muscles flexing. “Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona? One last kiss on those chaste lips, those budding breasts, those cruel knees — you who are about to die, I—”

“I’m right here,” Chrollo said, narrowing his eyes at Hisoka. “I don’t consent to whatever is happening right now.”

“It’s not my fault,” Hisoka said, putting on an exaggerated pout. He fell out of the handstand, graceful as usual. With a rather crude gesture, he continued, “This is a masturbation scene. You should be thankful I’m not so literal.” His voice was slightly strained from the effort of holding himself up. 

Chrollo sighed. “I’m sure your professor would appreciate that.” 

“She certainly would. Older women are usually infatuated with me.” Hisoka winked at Chrollo and stretched out his arms, likely stiff from holding himself up. Illumi watched his muscles ripple with unbridled interest. “I’m sure I could sleep with her for an A; however, I sense Illumi might get jealous.”

“If you do that I sense Illumi might break up with you,” Illumi said. He dropped his bag on the ground and glared. “You’re stretching out my pants, Hisoka.”

“Don’t take them off here,” Chrollo cut in as soon as Hisoka opened his mouth.

“You’re no fun.” Hisoka walked past Illumi and patted him on the head on his way into the kitchen. “Does anyone want tea?”

Illumi hummed. “Sleepytime.” 

Chrollo looked up from the book he was curled around. “Are you going to sleep?”

“No? Why would I?”

Hisoka snickered from the kitchen and Chrollo turned back to his book. Illumi liked sleepytime because he didn’t like caffeine in his tea. He was often teased because he consumed energy drinks like water but refused caffeinated tea, but to Illumi it made perfect sense. 

“Anyway,” Chrollo said, “I found my phone at work.” 

Hisoka sighed. “Shame. I liked having fewer ways to communicate with you.”

“You would be on the streets without me, Hisoka,” Chrollo replied coolly, snapping his book shut. “Someone apparently left it on the counter at work during the week.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes. “That’s suspicious.”

Hisoka nodded. “That’s weird.” 

“I thought so too, but nothing’s wrong with it.” He shrugged. “Even if someone’s stalking me I don’t have to buy a new phone.”

“Hisoka, stop stretching out my pants,” Illumi repeated. “Unless you want to buy me a new pair.” Hisoka would not be able to buy him a new pair; most of Illumi’s clothes cost more than one of Hisoka’s paychecks. 

Hisoka turned to Chrollo and cupped his hands around his mouth, like he was telling a secret. “He’s so annoying, he won’t even share clothes with his boyfriend.” 

“Hisoka.”

“I’m going!”

As Hisoka left with an overdramatic sigh, Illumi’s phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize; when he answered it there was only silence for a moment. 

“Hello?” 

“Illumi?” A familiar small voice asked.

“Kalluto?” The rush of relief Illumi felt was immediate. He was always worried for his siblings and it was hard to be apart from them; Kalluto was so young. 

“I missed you.” Kalluto’s voice was quiet and contemplative. “Mother and father said I’m not allowed to ask you to come home.”

This struck Illumi as odd. “I would love to come home and see you, but they won’t allow me.”

“Can I come visit you in your new house?” Kalluto asked hopefully. “And Hisoka?” 

Kalluto had taken a strange liking to Hisoka. They looked up to him, which Illumi found unsettling, but Hisoka treated them like his own younger sibling. “Will mother and father allow you to?”

“No, but they won’t notice,” they replied with the infallible conviction of a twelve year old. “Killua has been causing trouble since you left. They don’t care about me.” 

“They care about you very much, Kalluto,” Illumi said, more out of force of habit rather than any real conviction. “Is Killua okay?”

“They’re fighting more than usual, and Killua never comes home after school anymore.” Kalluto paused. “I don’t want to talk about Killua, Illumi.” 

“If you’re sure mother and father won’t notice then you are welcome, but I can’t pick you up from the manor.”

It was at this moment that Hisoka returned, equally shirtless but wearing his own pants. _Kalluto,_ Illumi mouthed. Hisoka’s eyebrows shot up and he stood beside Illumi, listening in on the call. 

“I can get there on my own if you give me the address,” Kalluto said stubbornly. “You don’t need to pick me up.”

“I have a car, little Kalluto, it’s no problem,” Hisoka interrupted.

“Hi, Hisoka. Okay.” There was barely-disguised relief in their voice. “I could do it, though. I got to the Hot Topic in your mall on my own. Mother doesn’t notice when I take change from her purse.”

Illumi frowned. “Why were you there?” Perhaps it hadn’t been a mistake after all when Illumi thought that he saw them. 

“I stole your friend’s phone to get your number,” Kalluto said matter-of-factly. “Milluki showed me the Instagram account someone made of photos of him. Hisoka was in some of them and I recognized him so I took your friend’s phone.” 

“You need to put a password on your fucking phone, Chrollo,” Hisoka said. Chrollo, who was now listening intently, rolled his eyes. 

“Language, Hisoka,” Illumi muttered. “Why didn’t you just ask Milluki or Killua for my phone number?” 

“Milluki is angry with you so he said no. Killua got a new phone and he couldn’t remember your number.” With almost an audible grin, they continued, “I took one of Milluki’s phones to call you! He hasn’t noticed yet but he will soon.” 

“You’re very clever, Kalluto.” It occurred to Illumi in the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be encouraging this behaviour, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I can buy you a phone if you’d like. You’ll just have to keep it a secret from mother and father.” It wasn’t a financially sound decision, but Illumi had a sinking feeling that something was brewing at the manor and he wanted to stay in the loop.

Kalluto paused. “Aren’t you poor now, Illumi?”

An unexpected laugh burst out of Illumi’s chest. He hadn’t realized how much he missed his youngest sibling. “It’s no problem, Kalluto.”

“If you’re sure,” Kalluto said slowly. Illumi could imagine their pensive look. “I’m the only one without a phone.”

“Now you’ll have one. When would you like to come?” 

They stopped for a moment. “When’s the soonest I can be there?”

* * *

In the hours preceding Kalluto’s arrival, Illumi felt almost embarrassed about the state of the apartment. It wasn’t a disaster; Hisoka had exacting standards when it came to cleaning and Chrollo was studiously neat. If anyone was a problem it was Illumi, who had grown up with butlers to take care of his messes. Still, no amount of tidying could fix the rattiness of the sofa and the ancient kitchen appliances. 

“Isn’t Kalluto ten?” Chrollo asked as Illumi righted the couch cushions for the third time. “Do they care this much?”

Hisoka was at Machi’s, something Illumi was grateful for. The relentless teasing at his obsessive cleaning he would surely receive wasn’t needed. “The apartment needs to be presentable, Chrollo. Did you pick this sofa up off of a street corner? Also, Kalluto is twelve.” 

“Yes, we did,” Chrollo said matter-of-factly. “Twelve year olds don’t care about this kind of stuff.”

Illumi felt the sudden need to wash his hands. “It’s none of your business what I do.”

“It’s my business when you keep making me get off of the couch to clean it for no reason.” This was technically untrue; after the second time Illumi made him move, Chrollo simply relocated to the floor to watch Gossip Girl on their unnervingly small television, something else Kalluto might notice. 

“I am trying to clean.” Chrollo raised his hands in surrender before turning back to the TV, transfixed. His hair was half-up in a tiny ponytail; the rest of it was too short to be tied up. Illumi hoped he would dress more presentably when Kalluto arrived. 

He spend the proceeding hours finding nonexistent filth to clean up and worrying about Kalluto. Something must be wrong if they needed to steal one of Milluki’s phones to call Illumi. Kikyo and Silva’s behaviour was far from normal, but usually Silva wasn’t so controlling.

After what felt like years of waiting, Hisoka texted Illumi that he was home; he had picked Kalluto up on the way home from Machi’s.

Kalluto was much like Illumi in that they were rather subdued; Illumi knew that they could be as boundlessly energetic and excitable as any twelve year old, but they were meticulously careful about who they showed it to. That was why Illumi was so surprised when Hisoka opened the door and Kalluto ran straight into Illumi, wrapping their arms around him. Illumi returned the embrace. “Hello, Kalluto,” Illumi greeted them.

Kalluto pressed their face into Illumi’s chest before letting him go. “It’s not the same at home without you.” Their gaze wandered around the apartment. 

“I imagine.” Illumi ruffled Kalluto’s shiny black hair, so like his own. “You can come here whenever you’d like, though. The others too.” 

Kalluto’s face soured at that. “No. Killua’s mad at you.” 

Killua was mad at Illumi more often than not, but it was rather concerning that he was still holding a grudge weeks after Illumi left. He was sure his parents were up to something, but he didn’t want to bombard Kalluto with questions when they’d only just walked in the door. 

“Kalluto, this is Chrollo, though I’m sure you already knew that,” Illumi said, gesturing toward Chrollo. Thankfully he was dressed more appropriately. 

“Hi, Kalluto,” Chrollo said, crouching down to greet them. Kalluto was remarkably tiny for a twelve year old. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Kalluto’s eyes wandered to the tattoo on Chrollo’s forehead, but they said nothing. The Zoldycks were nothing if not polite; that was something Illumi had never been good at. “I’m sorry for stealing your phone,” they said, not sounding sorry at all. 

Chrollo shrugged. “You gave it back. No harm, no foul, right?” 

Kalluto smiled brightly. “You should put a password on it.”

Their statement was met with a peal of laughter. “So I’ve been told.”

Hisoka, who Illumi suspected Kalluto liked more than him, interrupted the conversation to sweep Kalluto over his shoulder and carry them onto the couch. His presence had been frequent at the manor at his own insistence, and Kalluto was the only one in the family other than Illumi to take a liking to him. 

“Put me down!” Kalluto yelped. 

“Nope, you said you could beat me at Smash,” Hisoka said gravely. “I won’t rest until we’ve put it to the test, little Kalluto.” 

Chrollo gave Illumi an odd little salute. “I’ve got a meeting with my professor . I’ll see you guys later.” Illumi nodded. It was almost a relief to have him gone; Illumi didn’t want Chrollo to overhear anything about his parents or siblings. Family was a sore subject. Hisoka was no matter; he’d been privy in Illumi’s family politics almost since they met. He was relentlessly nosy and read Illumi with frightening ease; there was no hope of keeping it from him. 

Illumi sat on the arm of the sofa as Kalluto and Hisoka battled it out at whatever game they were playing, shouting at one another all the while. He had no interest in playing video games, but he liked to watch other people play. When he lived at the manor he used to spend hours watching Milluki play. It was another thing he missed dearly. 

“Illumi, don’t you want to try?” Kalluto asked after getting thoroughly decimated. Hisoka didn’t let anyone win against him, even someone as young as Kalluto; he was of the opinion that victories must be earned. “I don’t want to play anymore.” 

“No thank you.” Illumi was happy to see that Kalluto wasn’t sad about losing; instead their eyes shone. He sensed that he was about to crush their newly heightened spirits. “Kalluto, how are things at home? What did you mean about Killua causing trouble?” 

As expected, Kalluto’s face fell. Hisoka, a veritable giant in comparison to Kalluto’s tiny frame, pulled them against his side and ruffled their hair. Kalluto dropped their head onto Hisoka’s arm. “Don’t be a spoilsport, I want to hear your family drama,” Hisoka said playfully.

Illumi appreciated that Hisoka was here; he and Kalluto, no matter how much Illumi loved them, had the kind of complicated relationship that was inherent to growing up together in a household like the Zoldycks’. Hisoka, on the other hand, didn’t have that same unfortunate baggage. Kalluto might listen to him more. 

“Killua never comes home anymore; he’s always out with Gon,” Kalluto finally said, pinkish eyes cast downward. “Mother hates Gon, but Killua says that if you can leave, so can he.” 

“My leaving and Killua’s running away aren’t exactly the same,” Illumi said. “I find it odd that Mother would claim that they are.” 

Kalluto nodded vigorously. “That’s what I told him! You’re an adult, he’s not allowed to move out yet.” 

This brought Illumi to a standstill; he seemed to have found the puzzle piece he’d been missing. “Why do you think I left, Kalluto?” 

Kalluto narrowed their eyes. “You’re twenty. Mother said you wanted to be closer to school.”

“And why are we not allowed to see each other?”

“Why are you asking? What’s going on?” 

“Just tell me, Kalluto.” 

They sighed. “You left the family, so we aren’t supposed to talk to you. Obviously.” 

Hisoka’s eyebrows shot up. Illumi shook his head. “They asked me to leave. I didn’t want to.”

“Oh.” They began to fiddle with their sleeves. “Why would they do that?” 

“They decided it was time for me to be independent,” Illumi said, but it sounded brittle even to his own ears.

Their pink eyes flashed. “Hisoka came over a few days before.”

“Hisoka used to come over a lot,” Illumi pointed out. 

Each of the Zoldyck children had a unique relationship with Silva and Kikyo. Illumi was rather more loyal than the others, though he had his limits. Despite their differences, there were some secrets the siblings silently agreed to keep among themselves: the true nature of Illumi’s relationship with Hisoka, Killua’s obvious-to-everyone-but-himself crush on Gon, hiding spots on the grounds, and which butlers would break the rules for them. Illumi had never explicitly told any of his siblings that Hisoka was his boyfriend; they’d mostly figured it out for themselves. Illumi had never been certain if Kalluto knew; he supposed this answered the question. 

“Illumi,” Kalluto said with the kind of conviction only found in bullheaded children. “I’m not a baby.”

Hisoka’s sharp eyes narrowed. “Come on, Illu, you’re not serious.”

“Shut up, Hisoka,” Illumi snapped, clenching his fists. “Father was angry with me because I kept Hisoka a secret from them for so long. He wasn’t very happy it was Hisoka specifically either. It was a mistake on my part.” 

“And Mother?” Kalluto pressed. They were too perceptive for their own good. 

Illumi paused. The only reason they were exposed in the first place was because Kikyo had walked into Illumi’s room without knocking, only to find Illumi and Hisoka in a rather uncompromising position. He would prefer that his youngest sibling did not learn of this incident. “I didn’t speak to her very much. She was in hysterics.” 

Kalluto, who spent the most time with Kikyo out of the five children, nodded sagely. “She does that with me.” Suddenly, they grabbed Hisoka’s arm, holding it like a lifeline. “I wish I could leave sometimes.” Their voice was so despondent that Illumi’s chest ached. 

“I used to, too,” Illumi replied, and it was true. He had rarely enjoyed living in the manor. It was something that he needed, not something he wanted. Family came first; love wasn’t part of the equation. Or, it wasn’t when it came to his parents. He was fiercely loyal to the Zoldyck name, but it was his siblings that he truly loved. The manor was a place where Illumi could watch over them and where he knew they would be safe. Besides, Illumi wasn’t much use to anyone else. He missed the manor in the same way someone might miss an old, worn-out sweater: for its familiarity and fit rather than its warmth, or lack thereof.

“Can we talk about something else?” Kalluto asked. “Can I see your room?”

Illumi nodded. “The mess is Hisoka’s.” 

Hisoka scoffed as he stood up. “Don’t trust him, Kalluto, he’s lying.”

“I am not.”

“Have I ever lied to you, Kalluto? Me, your brother-in-law?”

“We aren’t married,” Illumi pointed out, elbowing Hisoka in the side. 

Hisoka waved a hand vaguely in Illumi’s direction. “Not yet, dear.”

“Ew,” Kalluto said. 

* * *

Kalluto was sleeping on the sofa when Chrollo returned, head pillowed on Illumi’s thigh, though the sound of the door closing was loud enough for them to blink awake. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Chrollo said when faced with Kalluto’s wide eyes.

“It’s okay.” 

Chrollo checked the time on his phone. “When are you guys going to the mall? I got called into work.” 

Illumi looked over at Kalluto, who nodded. “Soon. They need to get home.” 

“Just let me know when you’re leaving.” 

Though Illumi would have liked for Kalluto to stay for more than a few hours, it was soon time to leave. They were first going to buy Kalluto a phone before dropping them off near the manor. Illumi expected the car ride with Chrollo to be awkward, but surprisingly, Kalluto took a liking to him. They were usually reticent around strangers. It was understandable, Illumi supposed; Chrollo came off as charismatic to those who didn’t know him very well. Illumi watched them through the rearview mirror on the way to the mall. 

“What’s your favourite school subject?” Chrollo asked. “Illumi says you’re very smart.” 

“I don’t like school,” Kalluto said, frowning. “But I’m good at languages. We’re learning French at school and I’m studying Spanish and Latin at home.” 

“Do you speak any other languages?”

They nodded. “We all speak Japanese and Russian thanks to Mother and Father.” They pinned Chrollo with a scrutinizing gaze. “What do you do at school? It must be better than Illumi.” 

Chrollo laughed. “I’m in Christian studies. I don’t like math much either.” 

This seemed to displease Kalluto. “Are you Christian?” Illumi and his siblings weren’t raised with religion, though it was a part of their studies. 

Kalluto’s question was inexplicably amusing to Chrollo. Illumi was curious as well; he’d never bothered to ask, assuming the unfortunate cross on his forehead signalled some level of dedication beyond a university program. “No, I’m not religious. It’s more of an academic interest.” 

“And he was raised Catholic and can’t get over it,” Hisoka interrupted.

“And I was raised Catholic,” Chrollo echoed. “Though I wasn’t very good at it.”

The car stopped; they had arrived. “Stop trying to convince them you’re cool, Chrollo,” Hisoka said. He looked at Kalluto through the mirror. “He wasn’t a blight on the church’s good name, he just couldn’t sit still for the homily.” 

“Anyway,” Chrollo said, ignoring Hisoka completely, “I’m off to work. It was nice meeting you, Kalluto.” 

Kalluto nodded. “You too.” 

He got out of the car and grinned. “I hope we’ll see you at the apartment again soon.” 

“Why are you so desperate for approval from a child?” Hisoka called after him, opening his window so Chrollo would hear after he began to walk away. 

“Fuck off!” Chrollo replied without turning around.

“Language!” 

“I’m not a kid, Illumi.” 

“You are twelve. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the tiny bit of the monologue hisoka does at the top of the chapter is from act 2, scene 2 of spring awakening. (the play not the musical if you’re familiar!) also, if anyone is curious [here](https://twitter.com/carterchilcott/status/1351686957378711553?s=20) is how i imagine chrollo in this fic. that is also my twitter which you should follow <3
> 
> leave a comment leave a kudos !! we’ll be back to chrollo illumi hisoka shenanigans next chapter :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illumi gets bangs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished writing this to avoid my many many assignments that are due very very soon. enjoy

It was ten in the morning on a chilly Friday and Illumi was standing in a crowded marketplace, holding onto Hisoka’s sleeve like it was an anchor. Chrollo had dragged them out because the hard copy of the English translation of some obscure Norweigan comic he liked had finally been released. The catch was that it was only available in some hole-in-the-wall bookstore a forty minute drive from the apartment. 

The bookshop faced the marketplace where Illumi stood. Originally, he wanted to go inside with Chrollo, but the store had been surprisingly crowded. Hisoka had deduced that it was not, in fact, because of Chrollo’s terrible graphic novel, but the sequel of another (less unknown) series had just been released. Illumi, who fared particularly terribly in crowds, wandered into the market while Hisoka and Chrollo waited in line. 

“Illumi?” a familiar voice asked.

Illumi turned to find a mop of pink hair sticking out of a chunky scarf. “Hello, Machi. What are you doing here?”

It was clear what she was doing; she sat before a folding table covered in a colourful tablecloth and various… scarves? Hats and mittens? Socks? They were crocheted, perhaps, or knit. Illumi couldn’t tell the difference. 

“I’m a vendor here,” Machi said. The _duh_ was unspoken but Illumi heard it all the same. “I guess Hisoka never mentioned it.” 

Illumi shook his head. “I didn’t know.”

“Why did you get dragged along?” she asked him, leaning over the table. “It’s always busy this time of day. You hate crowds.” 

Illumi stared at Hisoka’s mop of red hair, a dot in a sea of heads. “Chrollo came to get his weird comic, and Hisoka wanted to come.” 

Machi nodded, an unimpressed look on her face. “And you two are codependent.” 

He levelled her with a dull stare. “I don’t know what you mean.” He did, though only in the vague sort of way that he knew his parents were not good people or how Chrollo was oddly argumentative about his sexuality. Something was probably up; he just chose not to think about it.

“Yes you do,” Machi accused. “I knew him before you did. I know what he’s like.”

“You did?” Hisoka didn’t divulge much about his past. Illumi had been told that Hisoka and Machi had a sibling-like relationship, though their friendship wasn’t very comparable to Illumi’s with his siblings.

“Yeah.” She fiddled with a piece of thread that had suddenly appeared in her red, cold-chapped hands and turned back to Illumi. “He lived in the same city as me for a few months when we were in ninth grade, I bet it was just before you guys met.” She rolled her eyes and laughed, a short huff of breath. “We dated for like, two weeks. He was too clingy. Perfect for you.” 

An involuntary frown appeared on Illumi’s face. “I do not think you would be a very good match.” 

“We weren’t. He made me realized I was a lesbian.”

Machi didn’t smile often, but there was a fond expression on her face when she spoke. “I suppose it turned out alright in the end,” Illumi said awkwardly. 

She nodded. “He used to be a really bad kisser. I hope for your sake he’s gotten better.”

“He is very good,” he said absently. Machi laughed, though Illumi didn’t understand why. “Machi, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

Illumi looked at the table between them. “My clothes. I cannot afford—” he broke off, hesitant, before continuing, “They are rather expensive. I would like to keep them in good condition rather than getting rid of them, if this arrangement becomes long-term.”

“You want me to fix your clothes?” She sounded doubtful. “I don’t do that for free, but—”

“No, I would like you to teach me,” he interrupted. “It isn’t sustainable to have you do it.” 

It was the first time Illumi had seen Machi anything close to awkward, but she quickly recovered. “Sure, I guess, no problem. Just let me know when.” 

He nodded, but before he could reply, someone touched his shoulder; instinctively, Illumi elbowed them. The resulting huff of pain was familiar and satisfying. “What the fuck, babe—”

“We don’t call each other that,” Illumi said, turning to face Hisoka and Chrollo at his side, book in hand. He patted Hisoka’s stomach with stilted movements, aiming for comfort but landing closer to awkward. 

“I was trying it out,” Hisoka hissed, voice still strained. 

Illumi kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t.” 

“Why are there never any people here, Machi?” Hisoka asked. “It’s always so empty. Are you that mean?” 

“No one comes when you’re here because you scare them off,” Machi replied. 

Hisoka sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I’m a delight.” 

“It’s not convincing when you two argue,” Chrollo pointed out. “You act like you’re married.” 

“If we acted like we were married Illumi would go into a jealous rage,” Machi said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed someone.”

Hisoka nodded in agreement. “He’s very possessive, you know.” 

“I am not,” Illumi lied.

“He’s lying,” Chrollo said. “He makes that one face whenever Hisoka touches me.” 

“I do not,” Illumi said, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t make faces.” 

Hisoka patted his cheek. “You’re doing it right now, babe.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes. “You’re making me uncomfortable. Stop calling me that.”

“What would you prefer, pumpkin?”

“There are plenty of names that you already call me that I take no issue with. Pick one.”

“Hmm, no.” Hisoka, slightly taller than Illumi in the shoes he was wearing, pulled Illumi into a gentle headlock and ruffled his hair. “If you won’t take my affection I will be forced to come up with alternatives. I particularly like honeybunny. Or angelface; _cupcake—”_

“I will strangle you in your sleep,” Illumi muttered, extracting himself from Hisoka’s grip. 

Chrollo groaned. “This isn’t even the first time you’ve had this conversation, guys.”

“It’s sort of sweet,” Machi said, sounding mostly uncomfortable.

“We’re very cute,” Hisoka said, turning his nose up at Machi. “You’re just jealous.”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Machi asked pointedly. “Leave me alone before you scare off any more customers.” 

They said goodbye to Machi and ventured back to the car. Illumi grabbed the sleeve of Hisoka’s sweater. Hisoka grinned, tongue caught between his teeth, and took Illumi’s hand. Illumi glared at nothing. It was nice to have a point of contact with Hisoka when there were so many people around, but he found it embarrassing when Hisoka acknowledged the fact that Illumi sought comfort in him. 

“Look, there’s a coffee shop,” Hisoka said suddenly, tugging on Illumi’s wrist to herd him in the right direction. “It smells like hot chocolate.” 

It was an ugly shop with exposed brick walls covered in word art. The baristas were far too cheery; it grated on Illumi’s nerves. The strong smell of coffee was overwhelming and uncomfortable. Without meaning to, Illumi brought his hands up to his chest, fluttering them aimlessly. It was a habit his mother used to scream at him for but he had never quite shaken. Eventually the screaming turned into grabbing his wrists to stop him, which had the unfortunate result of Illumi hitting his mother without thinking. Kikyo left him alone now.

“Ooh, they have plastic straws,” Hisoka said. 

Illumi frowned. “Why do you care?”

“You care,” Hisoka pointed out. “You like to drink everything with a straw and the paper ones get all mushy.” 

Illumi didn’t respond. Hisoka was, of course, right, but he wasn’t going to admit it. 

“Paper straws are better for the environment,” Chrollo said. “Why do you care if they get mushy?” 

Hisoka kicked Chrollo in the shin. “Illumi doesn’t care about the environment. He probably ran the books for his parents’ fracking empire.” 

Illumi cocked his head. “Is fracking bad for the environment?”

Hisoka cackled, attracting a few odd looks. “I love you so much. Please never look that up.” 

“Excuse me?” Chrollo stared at Illumi. “You can’t be serious.”

Chrollo had a fraught relationship with environmental stewardship in that he was very strict about taking short showers and liked to harp on others about their single-use plastics, but didn’t recycle because he ‘didn’t have the time’ and only wrote on one side of any given sheet of paper. Illumi found it vaguely amusing that he was under the impression that his actions made a difference. 

“I don’t like paper straws because if they turn soft it makes me gag,” Illumi explained finally, avoiding Chrollo’s incredulous stare. “The environment doesn’t factor in.” 

“I’ll apologize to the turtles personally, don’t fret, Chrollo,” Hisoka promised, patting Illumi on the head.

Finally, their drinks arrived; it had been a long, long time since Illumi had hot chocolate. His parents didn’t usually allow him sweet things. He linked elbows with Hisoka and let himself be led out of the store, checking out from the world around him. Though the crowds and the terrible smell of the coffee stressed him out, it was nice to visit somewhere that felt so normal. 

When Illumi fell out of his reverie, Hisoka was saying. “I don’t see why you’re so stuck up about the whole environment thing, Chrollo. You’re an asshole. You should embrace it instead of hiding behind social niceties.”

“You have no ground to stand on here,” Chrollo pointed out. He was walking a few steps ahead of them. “I wouldn’t call caring about the Earth a social nicety.” 

“But you don’t care about the Earth,” Illumi cut in curiously. “You want to give off the impression that you are a well-rounded and interesting person.” 

“Which you aren’t,” Hisoka added.

Illumi nodded. “You’re not.”

“You don’t even know what fracking is, Illumi, I’m not listening to you.” He sighed, dropping his shoulders and staring into the distance. “I wish you two never met. You might have been at least tolerable people individually.”

“Illu would be awful without me. I humanize him,” Hisoka argued.

“I am plenty human all on my own,” Illumi snapped. He shoved Hisoka in the side, nearly knocking his drink to the ground. 

“It’s really sad that you think that.”

“Christ, Hisoka—”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, motherfucker—”

“Hisoka!” A vaguely familiar voice interrupted. “Illumi! And Hisoka and Illumi’s friend!” 

“Gon,” Hisoka purred, abandoning his argument with Chrollo entirely. “What a surprise.” 

Standing just ahead of Gon in what Illumi recognized as a protective stance was Killua.

“Hello, Kil,” Illumi greeted his younger brother. “I’ve missed you. What are you doing here?” 

“My aunt Mito has a booth here,” Gon explained. “We’re supposed to be helping her.”

Killua scoffed, ignoring Gon and looking pointedly at Hisoka. “So you left to hang out with your weird boyfriend?”

Illumi cocked his head. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. Mother and Father made me. Did Kalluto not tell you?” 

Killua’s burning rage melted into confusion. “They —what? They told me you left on your own.” He started searching through his phone. “Kalluto didn’t tell me they talked to you.”

“Why did you get a new phone?” Illumi asked. He remembered Kalluto mentioning that Killua had a new phone — his old phone was black, not white like the one he was holding. 

“Mom threw a fit, she said she wasn’t getting my texts or something so she got me a new phone,” Killua explained. “I got a new phone number, and I forgot to add your number so I couldn’t text you— oh, what the hell.” 

“Language,” Illumi interrupted. His chest warmed at the revelation that Killua hadn’t been ignoring his texts, he just wasn’t receiving them. Hisoka elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Why would they ask you to leave?” Gon asked, staring at Illumi with frustration in his eyes. “Me and Hisoka were there for dinner right before you left and everything seemed fine!” 

Killua flicked Gon’s head. “Yeah, idiot, Hisoka was there. They kicked him out and then got my phone number changed so he couldn’t text me.” 

Killua usually didn’t like having conversations with Illumi for this long; he wondered what changed. “Father was upset with me for hiding my relationship from him,” Illumi said tersely. “That is all that he said.” 

Killua rolled his eyes. “You can’t seriously believe that. They’re awful to you.” 

Illumi paused, considering his words carefully, before he said, “This is a personal matter, Killua.” 

“We’re brothers! Family’s important, that’s what you and them are always saying. Why can’t you stop lying?” 

“Killua, I don’t think—,” Chrollo interrupted.

“Shut up!” Killua snapped. “Both of you. Illumi, you’re not stupid, right?”

Hisoka put a hand on Illumi’s shoulder. “This is a lost cause, kid.”

Anxiety washed over Illumi like a shock of cold water, leaving him shaky. “Shut up, Hisoka. Killua, don’t talk about Mother and Father like that, they didn’t mean any harm.”

Rage coloured Killua’s features. “You’re still defending them? They just kicked you out of the house and you still think they’re always right.”

Bile rose up in Illumi’s throat. He argued with Killua more than any of his other siblings, but it always hurt the most. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. I see no value in wasting my anger on them; they had reasons, and besides, I am an adult now.” 

Illumi did not love his parents, but he cared about them in the way he was taught you were supposed to care about family; it was an obligation. They were a unit and loyalty was important even if affection was not. If Illumi admitted to Killua that his parents were wrong, or that he was upset with them, Killua might cause more trouble. Killua was a promising child. It wouldn’t do for Illumi to corrupt him more. He would come around eventually; they were brothers, after all. 

“You’re so stupid,” Killua hissed. “I don’t understand you. You want to control me just like them.” 

“I love you, Killua,” Illumi said quietly.

“Yeah, sure. Mom and Dad think they love us too, but they also made me watch when they held you underwater so you could ‘learn to hold your breath’.”

“It is for our own good.” They were words Kikyo and Silva had been telling Illumi for as long as he could remember. _It’s for your own good, Illumi. It hurts now, but you’ll be better off in the end. Your brothers are children; they don’t understand like you do, Illumi. You’re such a good boy._ “We are a family.”

“I was going to — never mind, I don’t know why I ever thought you would ever help me.” Killua scoffed to himself. “You never change. You’re just like them, even now. Come on, Gon, we’re leaving.” With that, he grabbed Gon’s hand and dragged him back in the direction they came from. Illumi watched his fluffy white hair disappear into the crowd, an empty feeling in his chest. 

“I would like to go home,” Illumi said faintly. He felt lightheaded, like he might collapse at any time. 

“Good idea,” Chrollo agreed. 

Like he was leading a lost and forlorn child, Hisoka took Illumi back to his ancient, horrible Kia Soul. For once, no snide comments were made. Illumi was grateful. 

“You should skip your classes today,” Hisoka said once they were on their way home. “It might make you feel better.”

Illumi sighed. “No. You want me to skip so you can have sex with me before you leave for work because you like it when I am.. upset.” It would be nice to skip class; he had classes from noon until the evening, but it was not a good idea.

“Jesus, Illumi—”

“Jesus is wilting in his grave, Chrollo,” Hisoka interrupted. “You’ll go to hell with that mouth.”

Chrollo scoffed. “I don’t think I’m the one going to hell here.”

“You always make things into a righteous crusade,” Hisoka drawled. “It’s boring and you sound like a virgin.” 

A frustrated groan sounded from the backseat of the car. “Just because I don’t want to hear about your sex life—” 

“Righteous crusade,” Hisoka echoed in a sing-song voice. “I can’t hear you over my homosexual lifestyle and moral depravity.” 

Illumi found comfort in their bickering. Arguments with Killua usually left him feeling utterly destroyed, and while today was no different, having Hisoka and Chrollo around was much preferable to dealing with it alone. 

“I didn’t even bring up the gay thing. And anyway—” 

* * *

When Illumi returned from Business Analytics later in the evening, Hisoka was gone. He had enough assignments he needed to catch up on to pass the time easily, but Illumi wanted Hisoka home; he was much too used to having him around all the time. It felt like an addiction: mere hours had passed since they last spoke and Illumi craved his presence already.

The encounter with Killua left him feeling wrecked; if he were in the manor, he might wreak havoc in their personal gym or stand in a painfully hot shower for a few hours. Here, there was no luxury home gym and he had to pay for hot water. 

Illumi looked around the bedroom; he briefly considered tearing apart all of Hisoka’s clothes, but Hisoka would find it too entertaining when he returned. Besides, hurting others was less of an unhealthy coping mechanism and more of a habit Illumi liked to keep up. 

Finally, he decided on texting Kalluto. Something from the encounter earlier had been bothering him. 

_I ran into Killua today. He mentioned he was going to ask me for help with something, but changed his mind. Do you know what he was talking about?_

_Yeah_

_but I don’t want to tell you over text, it would be bad if anyone found out_

_next time I see you I will explain_

_Okay. Thank you, Kalluto._

_no problem illumi_

Their conversation left Illumi more confused than before. What was going on that was so important it couldn’t be explained over text message? He twirled his fingers through his hair, frowning. Suddenly, Illumi’s brooding was interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door. “Illumi?”

Illumi brushed imaginary dirt from his clothes and smoothed down his hair. Chrollo was standing outside of the door, scissors in hand for some unfathomable reason. 

“I’m cutting my hair, I need you to tell me if the back looks okay,” Chrollo said when Illumi offered no greeting. “The lighting is better in the bathroom, come on.” 

The bathroom was usually meticulously clean thanks to Hisoka’s impossible standards, but just then it was covered in a thin coating of freshly-chopped dark hair. Illumi inspected Chrollo’s work, tilting his head with his hand so he could see more clearly. 

“It’s fine,” he said. 

“Thanks, that was all.”

Still, Illumi found himself lingering in the doorway. Chrollo looked at him in the mirror and held up his scissors; kitchen scissors, definitely unfit for cutting hair. “Do you want me to do you?” 

Illumi found himself nodding. “I want,” he said, and that in itself was an unfamiliar phrase, “I want bangs.” 

Chrollo, to his credit, did not react. He just nodded. “Come sit on the counter.” 

It was not comfortable to have scissors so close to his face, especially wielded by Chrollo Lucilfer, but Illumi swallowed his discomfort and let him work. Occasionally, Chrollo put his hand on Illumi’s face to hold him still, or to tilt his head; it was torturous, but the pain was probably deserved. 

“How long do you want them?”

Chrollo seemed almost unimpressive when he wasn’t wearing his awful fur-lined coat. He seemed to take up space in every room he walked into; similar but opposite to Hisoka. The charm was lost as he stood before Illumi in a Kellogg’s t-shirt and his ever-present patterned boxers. 

“Not too short,” Illumi replied. He couldn’t seem to bring his voice above a whisper. 

In the end, it didn’t look as terrible as Illumi had anticipated. Instead of a blunt fringe across his forehead, the bangs were sort of layered, not dissimilar to Alluka’s (well, Alluka’s bangs the last time he saw her, more than two years ago). It was elegant in theory, even if it looked a little choppy in practice. 

“Thank you,” Illumi said. “It is acceptable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Chrollo, though he smiled warmly. “If you need anything, Illumi, I’m here. I know you’ve had a difficult few weeks.” His voice was stilted but kind; Illumi wanted to set him on fire.

“I am fine.” Illumi swallowed and touched a hand to his freshly cut bangs. “But thank you. I suppose.” 

He left Chrollo alone to clean up the mess they’d created. He probably deserved that for trying to be genuine, anyway; Illumi found it irritating and it was a shock after spending essentially every day and night with Hisoka.

Hisoka came home at half past one; Illumi should have been sleeping, but any sleep schedule he used to maintain was destroyed by his abrupt relocation. He was up most nights, thoughts running amok. Hisoka kept late hours because of his job, which was convenient for both of them. 

“Illumi?” Hisoka’s voice was low and he kept the lights off, just in case Illumi was sleeping. 

“I am awake.” 

The light flickered on; Illumi blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the artificial yellow brightness. Hisoka’s eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Illumi; a smug grin plastered over his features. “Are you a hairdresser now?” 

“Chrollo did it.” 

In a flash, Hisoka was on the bed, arms caging Illumi. “You let Chrollo that close to you?” 

Illumi shoved him away. “You smell like a bar.” 

“I have some news about where I was all night, darling.” He peeled off his shirt and announced, “I’m having a shower. Don’t be asleep when I get back.”

It was clear that Hisoka wanted to tease him about his bangs or perhaps have sex, but Illumi imagined that Hisoka’s intentions were something nicer, like saying goodnight before he went to sleep. 

To Illumi’s surprise, Hisoka crawled into bed and plastered himself to Illumi’s side, not unlike an octopus. “Hi,” Illumi whispered. 

“I genuinely don’t understand how you can have such a massive breakdown and not realize it,” Hisoka muttered. He pressed a kiss to Illumi’s jaw. “You’re so weird.” 

“I’m not having a breakdown.” He wasn’t. He would surely notice it if he was; besides, Illumi was not built for breakdowns. “Why did you want me to stay awake?”

Illumi didn’t see Hisoka’s grin, but he felt it against the column of his throat. “I am not having sex with you, if that’s what you’re asking. You’d definitely cry again.” 

“Hush,” Illumi said.

“You be quiet,” Hisoka hissed. He rearranged their hopeless tangle of limbs so that he and Illumi were face to face. 

“What.”

Hisoka blinked slowly. He looked like a cat with his golden eyes. “Have you considered that I wanted you to stay awake because I like you?” 

“I’m too tired for you to be nice to me.” 

“That’s really fucked up, Illumi.” 

“Mmm,” Illumi said. He pressed a soft kiss to Hisoka’s lips. “I guess.”

“You’re pretty fucked up.”

Illumi knocked their foreheads together, a vague approximation of a headbutt. “Hypocrite. I am going to sleep now.” 

“Night, Illumi.”

“Good night, Hisoka.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought ! tumblr/twitter is @ carterchilcott !


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